


From Right to Left

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, oh the angst, oh the smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:44:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3159959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was closer than he thought, but before he could step back, she moved closer still. Close enough to press her lips to his. Fitz inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyebrows rising in surprise and every part of him except his mouth pulling away from her.</p><p>It was not really how he imagined their first kiss going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Potential trigger warning – discussion of symptoms/feelings characteristic of PTSD and/or depression, though I’m not sure I’d go so far as to diagnose them. (But I’m not an expert!) 
> 
> Potential spoiler warning - set after 2x10, intended to be canon compliant

For the first time since she had returned, the silence between them wasn’t awkward. They were perhaps too tired, too grief-stricken, too shocked to let any of their difficulties add to the strain of the flight back to the Playground. Or maybe, as Fitz couldn’t help but wonder, they had reached rock bottom and had started fighting their way back up there in the tunnels of the city. After their last, devastating conversation, when Fitz had told her he’d be leaving the lab, they almost seemed fine. She finished his sentences as they prepared the DWARFs, and later they worked together to save Mack and strategize. 

Maybe the silence was no longer awkward because things were starting to work themselves out. They’d never be the old FitzSimmons again. And he accepted they’d never be what he had hoped they might. But maybe they could find a new way to be a part of each other’s lives, different but just as good. He hoped she wanted that too.

Jemma was seated next to him, strapped in tight. He looked at her, took in her red-rimmed eyes, and offered her a sadly supportive smile. She sighed, and seconds later, he could feel her fingers cautiously close the distance between them. Fitz hesitated a moment, and then turned his hand over, palm up, so she could thread their fingers together. He squeezed comfortingly, and she swiped her thumb over his knuckle.

They stayed like that, quiet, motionless, taking comfort from each other, until the plane landed. And then Fitz knew he had to let go. Even while packing up and checking their inventory, they remained silent. Once he had everything organized, Fitz prepared to walk down the ramp. He stopped immediately, though, when Jemma touched him again, hooking her hand around his elbow. He turned to her curiously, and she held up a finger to keep him patient.

Fitz instead watched as the others left – Bobbi and Hunter talking quietly to each other, the Koenigs already discussing plans for the next steps the team would need to take, Mack and Coulson carefully carrying an unconscious Skye, May fatigued but stoic as ever. It took him a moment to realize that that was everyone; no one else was still in there. His heart clutched painfully when he finally remembered. He looked at Jemma then so he didn’t have to think about it anymore.

She was closer than he thought, but before he could step back, she moved closer still. Close enough to press her lips to his. Fitz inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyebrows rising in surprise and every part of him except his mouth pulling away from her. 

It was not really how he imagined their first kiss going. 

He broke away, grabbing her upper arms to hold her back. “What are you doing?” His voice was embarrassingly high-pitched, but at least he didn’t stutter. 

Jemma’s mouth opened and closed several times, her eyes as wide as he imagined his were. And then she seemed to steel her resolve. She took a breath, exhaled it slowly.

“Today was just another reminder that life is short, Fitz. I don’t want this distance between us anymore.”

Fitz stared at her, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He wanted to ask what she had felt for Trip and if this was the best time to be making decisions like this, if he wasn’t who she chose but simply who was left. He still wanted to know why she had gone away and maybe this time he’d listen if she tried to tell him. He wanted to remind her that they really had so much to work through and talk about, that this was skipping at least seven important steps. He wanted to make sure she really meant it, that this wasn’t some desperate act to normalize things or that she didn’t feel pressured into anything.

But he was too happy, too excited, too relieved at the prospect of having his best friend – _more than that_ – back. Or perhaps he was just too afraid to find out the answers to those questions. 

“Really?” he finally asked. 

She nodded quickly, maybe too quickly. “I think we’ve been apart long enough.”

Fitz used his grip on her arms to pull her closer. The hard, fast, closed-mouth kiss he gave her still wasn’t what he had dreamed about, but it was getting there.

**

It had been a couple days since things had…changed between them, and Fitz was still feeling a little discombobulated about it. Everything had happened so fast after their second kiss. He had just started to consider deepening it, opening his mouth and seeking entrance to hers, when she pulled back. Shyly reminding him that Coulson and the others were probably waiting, she walked away from him with only one backward glance. And then, after they had all debriefed, Fitz searched her out again, following her to the small room she had been staying in.

She had pulled him inside, and Fitz tried not to get his hopes up too much at that, but then she had begun talking urgently, quietly. Asking him if it was OK if they took things slow, kept it to themselves for the time being. Fitz had nodded as vigorously as he could, desperately willing to give her anything she asked and terrified that he’d somehow mess this up. She hesitated for a brief moment then, before reaching out and pulling him closer to her by the back of his neck. This third kiss was maybe the best yet, the paranoid immobility he had felt earlier gone as she tilted her head to the side and sucked his tongue into her mouth. But just like the others, it was far too short.

Fitz panted, eyes remaining stubbornly closed for a moment before he forced them open so he could look back at her. Her expression was apprehensive, scared almost, and something else that Fitz couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“I’ve missed you,” he finally said. 

She moved closer again, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him in a hug that felt more intimate than anything else they’d done that day. 

“I’ve missed you too, Fitz,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

**

He was so glad he decided not to go the garage after all. Mack was a great friend, and Fitz worked really well with him, but it was nothing like the familiar dance that he and Jemma shared. She was currently working on figuring out the effects of the Obelisk on Skye, analyzing all sorts of blood and tissue samples, and he was assisting her. Which worked out fantastically for him, because he could spend most of his time watching her lean over the microscope or hold test tubes up to inspect them closely or mumble quietly to herself as she poured reagents into graduated cylinders.

And sometimes he’d hand her something she needed before she even asked for it, which would earn him a small but meaningful smile. Until he started sliding his finger along hers, taking too long to pass an item over just so he could feel her skin against his. That would earn him a blush, a twitch of her own hand as she looked around the room nervously to see if anyone had noticed, a reprimanding _"Fitz"_.

**

They hadn’t quite figured out all the issues with Skye yet, but they were starting to understand some of the changes to her DNA, her metabolism, her brain. And she was starting to learn how to recognize the tremors before they turned into full-blown earthquakes. She was feeling confident enough to leave the cell on the airplane, for stretches of time at any rate, but she still spent most of her days avoiding everyone else or crying in Coulson’s office. Fitz wanted to make her feel better, wanted to remind her that she was still part of the team and still their friend, much like she had tried to do for him. He only hoped she would welcome the overtures more than he had.

“Jemma?” he asked carefully. He was afraid she’d take this the wrong way. It was their first planned evening together, a movie night that in the past would have involved lots of snacks and, if he were lucky, Jemma falling asleep on his shoulder. Now, he wanted the privacy to see exactly how slow taking it slow meant, to see what a movie night would include after the change in their relationship. But he also couldn’t ignore his friend’s suffering. 

Jemma glanced up at him from the other side of the lab bench, a curious expression on her face.

“Maybe…we should ask Skye to join us tonight. What do you think?” he asked, his words jumbling together toward the end. 

“Yes!” her reply was enthusiastically quick, almost out of her mouth before he finished asking. He furrowed his brow, trying to ignore the little insecurities still tickling at the back of his brain. She was probably just worried about Skye too. She cleared her throat, looking away from him and fumbling slightly with the equipment she was holding. “I – I think she’d probably like that,” she added.

**

The movie night had been fun, once everyone had loosened up. Fitz wasn’t entirely sure who had been more uncertain out of the three of them, but he forged ahead with his traditional sarcastic commentary and soon enough Skye had started laughing and Jemma had scooted just a bit closer to him. Not as close as he would have liked, but he had promised to be discreet.

He was quite proud of himself, actually, and felt rather gentlemanly as he walked Jemma back to her room. Maybe the evening had gone well enough that she would let him be ungentlemanly for a while. He glanced out the corner of his eye at her, hiding a smile at that thought. Jemma was staring straight ahead, an odd expression on her face, and Fitz missed the days when he could read all her thoughts easily. They’d get there again, someday, he knew it.

They arrived at her door, and Jemma turned to face him, the expression suddenly replaced with a wide smile. 

“I had a good time tonight, Fitz,” she said. “I forgot how much…”

Fitz waited, curious and hopeful about how she’d finish the sentence. But she never did, instead reaching out to take hold of his hand. He stared at their interlocked fingers for a moment before looking up at her again.

“I had fun too,” he replied. He paused, took a breath, then added, “I – I could come in for a while.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the door, a blush rising up her neck. Facing him again, she seemed to struggle for an answer ( _an excuse?_ Fitz wondered) before replying. “I’m – Fitz, I’m…really tired.” 

“Oh,” he said, dropping his eyes and taking a step back as he shook his head. She seemed to tighten her grasp on his hand for a moment before letting it go. “No, yeah. No, of course. Um. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Fitz.”

He forced himself to make eye contact. She looked scared again, or like she was about to start crying, and Fitz hated that everything was still so complicated, even now. He leaned in, placing one hand on her waist and planning to kiss her but at the last moment losing courage and dropping a peck at the corner of her lips instead. He felt her sigh before he pulled back.

“Good night,” he murmured.

He was halfway down the hall before he heard her door open.

**

Fitz kept his eyes closed as he breathed in the steam, enjoying the aroma of his tea. Soon, it would be in his stomach and shortly after that, caffeine would be flowing through his system.

He was not a morning person.

But Jemma was, and when she strolled into the room with a chipper good morning, Fitz couldn’t help but smile. He opened his eyes, immediately locking on her. They shared a private glance as she came closer. She made a small motion with her arms, clearly trying to shift him aside so she could grab a mug from the cupboard. He stood still for a bit, trying to tease, then reached for the object on the counter behind him. Seconds later, he produced the tea he had already prepared just the way she liked it. 

“Oh, thank you,” she said, her smile growing impossibly wider. She reached out and tweaked the collar of his shirt, and Fitz stopped breathing as he remembered the rare times she’d impishly pull on his tie before…well, back when he wore ties. Was that flirting, he wondered. Was it flirting now?

She turned away, and Fitz finally managed to suck in a breath. Glancing over her shoulder, she added “See you in the lab?” Fitz nodded, not trusting his voice. 

She was almost to the door when Mack appeared, blocking her exit. Jemma startled, backing up a step and quickly holding her cup out in case any tea sloshed over the side. The room suddenly seemed to become tense as Jemma and Mack looked at each other, and then Mack shifted his gaze to Fitz. Jemma ducked her head then, sneaking past him and into the hall. As she left, she tucked one piece of hair behind her ear, the way she did when she felt nervous or shy. Or guilty, like when she was trying to lie. 

Fitz took a contemplative sip of his tea.

Mack watched him closely as he walked over and grabbed the coffee pot. Fitz tried to ignore the implications of his pointed expression. 

“You two seem to be getting along better,” Mack observed too casually. 

Fitz hummed noncommittally. 

“Anything you want to talk about?”

 _So many things._ “Um…no.”

**

If he had either hand free, Fitz would pinch himself to check he wasn’t dreaming, but both hands were far too busy. One was hooked around Jemma’s hip, the other resting low on her stomach, pulling her close. But not too close. He didn’t want to scare her away by coming on too strong and letting her feel how she was affecting him. Because, for perhaps the first time since they had started this, she was reacting as he had always hoped she would. Her breath was coming fast and shallow, one of her hands had reached up to bury itself in his hair, and she kept gasping his name almost like she couldn’t believe it was him doing this to her.

He hadn’t expected this to happen, or it to escalate so quickly. They had been alone in the lab. It was late; everyone else had gone and the halls just outside the windows were dark. Fitz had been teasing her as she worked, distracting her while she tried to carefully watch a beaker simmer on the hot plate and wait for the centrifuge to finish whirling. And when she had told him to do some work or leave her alone in peace to do hers, he stood, hands out in apology. He had walked over behind her, planning to say goodnight with a chaste kiss. 

But it was too tempting when he got to her, and he reached out, smoothing her hair aside and leaning down to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the juncture of her shoulder and neck. She had gasped, apparently surprised by the unexpected affection, her breath slightly shaky. And then Fitz remembered something from long ago, a conversation he sort-of-accidentally overheard during a Christmas party when they were still at Sci-Ops. Jemma had been talking to someone from Tactical, giggling over whatever muscle-bound arse she had been seeing ( _Jake. His name was Jake, and he was an oaf. Washboard abs did not make up for a total lack of personality or intelligence, but it wasn’t like Jemma would have welcomed his opinion about who she dated. She had told him many times since the Academy that they would have to at least pretend to like each other’s significant others, no matter what. Not that Fitz really ever had a significant other._ ) Anyway. She had been giggling, far too many holiday cocktails in her, as she talked about how sensitive her neck was. How just the lightest brush of fingertips could nearly make her come ( _Fitz had downed his drink then. He had been very thirsty, that’s all._ ), and don’t even get her started on how she reacted to being kissed there. 

Fitz was not at all ashamed to admit he used this ill-gotten knowledge for his own gain, quickly kissing her again and barely stopping himself from pumping one fist out in victory when her knees buckled. Instead he caught her, taking the opportunity to finally get his hands on her body in a way he had only ever imagined. 

The fingers in his hair scrunched, nails scraping along his scalp, and he broke the seal of his mouth to let out a shuddering breath. Her other hand came down, wrapped around the back of his thigh, dug into the muscle as she pulled him closer. Close enough to brush against her and there was no hiding how turned on he was now. But all she did was press back into him and drop her head further to the side so he had more room to work. He tried to decide if he should turn her around and kiss her for real, maybe lift her onto the bench and – 

And then the beaker boiled over, the contents sizzling as it hit the hot plate before splashing onto the counter surface. Jemma broke away, leaning forward with her hands out like she could catch the liquid.

“Oh! Oh no!”

He grabbed her hands before she could burn herself, and leaned past her to turn off the heat. Jemma sighed, shoulders falling as she took in the mess. 

“I’ll get some towels,” Fitz offered.

“No, can you just – damn, I have to start all over now.”

“Tomorrow,” Fitz urged. “It’s too late now.” 

“Please, Fitz.” Her voice was breathy, but not in a good way anymore, and Fitz looked at her sharply, wondering what exactly had gone so wrong. The experiment wasn’t even all that import – “Can you just go?” she concluded.

Fitz nodded, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. “Sorry,” he replied, his voice almost a whisper. “Are you sure you don’t want help? I can – ”

She shook her head, not meeting his eyes, and Fitz stopped talking. He moved then, confused and frustrated, and didn’t look back until he was out in the hall. Jemma was seated on a stool, elbows on the counter and her face buried in her hands. She wasn’t crying, exactly, but her whole body was trembling with some kind of emotion.

**

They had understandably taken a major step back after that, with Fitz once again very cautiously, very carefully giving her closed-mouth kisses only when she seemed most receptive. And yet still, Jemma seemed more likely to pull away from him before things could heat up, to turn her head so his lips landed on her cheek instead. Her expressions varied between nervous and sad and, distressingly often, overly determined. It shouldn’t be like this. Fitz wasn’t the most experienced when it came to dating, but he knew it shouldn’t be like this. And maybe he still didn’t want the answers to some of the questions that had sprung into his mind when she first kissed him, but he definitely wanted the answer to at least one question.

“Do you want to go out to-tomorrow night? On a…date?” He exhaled, relieved that he managed to make it through without stuttering too badly. 

Jemma looked at him, somewhat startled, before she grabbed his arm and pulled him into her room. 

“Fitz! What are you – a date?”

Fitz nodded, trying (and he suspected failing) not to let his eyes get too puppy-dog. Because, really, he already knew what her answer would be. 

“We can’t just...” she began, lowering slowly onto her bed. “I mean, we’d need to tell Coulson and it would just be a really big deal.”

“You still want to keep us a se-secret? For how long?”

Jemma’s mouth opened and closed. She couldn’t seem to come up with an answer, and after a very long moment, during which Fitz could feel his heart shattering, he walked over and sat next to her. She didn’t turn to look at him and Fitz inhaled deeply.

“Jemma, you’re my best friend.”

Finally, she made eye contact with him. “You’re mine too,” she replied urgently, reaching out to cover his hand with her own. 

Fitz nodded. And then he finally just said it. “But I’m not mmmm-more than that, am I?”

“Fitz,” Jemma choked out, looking down at their clasped hands as she tightened her grip. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” he said truthfully. “But Jemma, I’m – I’m in love with you.”

She sobbed once, bringing her free hand up to her mouth, and then there was a long moment of silence.

“What do you feel for me?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t _know_.”

Fitz nodded, standing up quickly and taking several steps away from the bed. He sighed, unable to face her, and put his hands on his lower back as he tried to process her statement.

“You kissed me!” was the only thing he could think of to say. It came out angry, but as soon as he said it, his anger dissipated. His next question just came out defeated. “Why?”

“Because…” she began, and Fitz could hear that her tears were running freely now. “Because…Trip died – ”

He felt the color drain from his face, and he froze, feeling like his heart was being crushed by unrelenting pressure. He knew he was second choice.

“Because Trip died,” she repeated, her voice firmer, “and Mack almost died, and Skye could have died and – ”

Fitz turned to face her, trying not to think about how distraught his expression must be.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you too, not again,” she concluded. 

Fitz breathed in and out a few times, then pressed his lips together as he rejected that argument. “We were back at the base,” he pointed out. “The danger was past.”

“You were going to the garage,” Jemma countered. 

“It wasn’t an ultimatum,” he all but exploded. Jemma looked back at him with red eyes, wet streaks down her cheeks, and Fitz lost his anger again. He walked over to once again take his spot next to her. “I didn’t tell you how I felt because I expected…anything. I just wanted to be brave enough to say it one da-damn time. I told you because I didn’t expect to live.”

“Well, I wish you hadn’t.”

Fitz’ head jerked in surprise, and he felt all the air rush out of him. He stared at Jemma, unable to hide the hurt on his face.

She furrowed her brow at his reaction and then her mouth dropped open as she shook her head. “Hadn’t told me, not hadn’t lived, you complete berk.”

Fitz managed to breathe again. But then he found he couldn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Fitz…” she asked softly. “Do _you_ wish you hadn’t lived?”

He was silent for a long beat. “Sometimes,” he finally answered.

She reached out to take his hands again, shifting on the mattress so she was closer to him, and Fitz wished he still didn’t want to feel her warmth and her softness. 

“How can you say that?” she asked, sniffling. “How can you think the world would be better off? How can you think I would ever be happy again?”

Fitz looked at his hands, clenching the bad one into a fist. “You don’t understand what it’s been like for me. You were-weren’t here. Even now, I…”

“I’m sorry for leaving,” Jemma interrupted. “I don’t know how many times I can say it.”

“That’s not – that’s not – _dammit_.” He thought he had been getting better, even finally around her. These last couple weeks, he could talk to her with very little trouble and now… He put his face in his hands temporarily, and then stood.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. And then he took a step towards the door to her room.

“Please, Fitz!” she called out, her voice urgent. “Don’t leave.”

He spun on her then, stepping over to the bed and crouching in front of her. “Then tell me how you feel. Just _be honest_.”

“I feel scared!” she shouted, the last of her barriers collapsing.

Fitz breathed in sharply, distressed. “Of what?” he practically begged.

“Of – of everything. I feel scared, and sad, and just…tired. All the time. I haven’t been able to feel anything else since…since the…since the pod. I wish I could feel more. Sometimes I think I might but then – ” she crumpled, putting her face in her hands as she sobbed. Through her tears, Fitz could barely make out her next words. “I think I’m broken.”

Fitz watched her for a moment, finding it difficult to breathe and feeling once again like his heart was breaking. He couldn’t bear to see her in pain, not if there was something he could do about it, even if it meant he’d be the one to suffer instead. So, he lifted himself up, reaching out to pull her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed harder. 

“You’re not broken,” he whispered forcefully in her ear. “There’d be something wrong with you if you _didn’t_ feel like that after everything that’s happened.”

He waited until she started to calm, her breath coming in shaky gasps as the sobs weakened. He could feel dampness on his shirt and on his neck, and he tried not to flinch at the thought of all the mucus on him. Instead, he spoke again. “And you’ll never lose me,” he promised. “But…I need some time to get over you.”

She clutched tighter to his shirt, sniffling. It was hard to tell if she was nodding or shaking her head, and Fitz wasn’t sure if she even knew.


	2. Chapter 2

If Fitz didn’t consider Mack a good friend before, letting him move into the garage with no questions asked would have clinched it. Of course, Fitz knew Mack expected an explanation at some point, but for now, he was willing to just provide whatever support Fitz needed. And it was appreciated more than Fitz could say. But as good of a friend as he was, he wasn’t Jem- _Simmons_. And the garage wasn’t their lab. And each day felt worse than the one before. 

He told her he hadn’t expected any sort of reciprocation and that had been true. He knew even when he first confessed his feelings that she didn’t return them, and her abandoning him at the worst time of his life, regardless of however many valid reasons she thought she had, only confirmed that. And he had accepted that! He never intended to pressure her or guilt her. He just wanted her in his life somehow. That was still true, he realized. Because while he missed the kissing (and oh God, did he ever miss the kissing. That night in the lab haunted his dreams.), he missed just her more. He thought constantly about her, more than he ever used to even, wondering how they could repair their friendship.

Because he had been telling the truth when he said he’d always be there for her. He wanted their friendship back. But he also had been telling the truth when he said he needed time to sort out his feelings and find a way to get over her. 

They still saw each other all the time though. In the conference room for briefings. In the break room and the kitchen. In the halls. In storage when they went to gather more supplies. Fitz had worried things would be as awkward as they had been before, if not more so. Judging by the looks they received from at least some of the others (Fitz suspected their brief foray into a romantic relationship hadn’t been as much of a secret as she wanted it to be), he wasn’t the only one with that worry. But, astonishingly, they were actually polite with each other. Comfortable, even. Now that everything, or at least enough, had been said, they weren’t hindered anymore. Their conversations were frequently little more than small talk, but they flowed freely. And they were very quick to support and build upon each other’s suggestions during team meetings. To Fitz, it felt like back at the Academy, after they had realized they could work, and work very well, together but before they had become true friends. And that’s what gave him the idea, in the end. Back to basics. 

If nothing else, they always had science.

**

“Simmons?”

Jemma nearly stumbled at the unexpected sound of her name, doubly unexpected coming from him. And, she hesitated to admit to herself, also slightly disappointing that it was her last name. She had grown used to _Jemma_ , had started to like how it sounded coming out of his mouth. He hadn’t called her that since…well, since. 

She plastered a too-broad smile on her face anyway, turning to wait as he caught up to her on his way out of the morning meeting. His hands were in his pockets, and his shoulders slightly hunched as he walked closer. He glanced up at her, quickly returning her smile before he looked at the ground again. When they were even with each other, she turned and began walking again. She had learned that it was somehow easier to talk if they were both moving, if they had a reason not to look at each other. 

“Yes, Fitz?” she finally asked. 

“Do you – do you have some time this afternoon?”

“Yes, of course.” Her response was too eager, even to her ears, and she stretched out the fingers of one hand, pressing the palm against her leg. She took a breath. “Why?”

“Ah, it’s the DWARFs,” he explained, reaching out to pull the door of the lab open for her. He followed her into the room and they both stopped next to Jemma’s usual bench. She tried not to think about the night they were in here alone when he kissed her neck and she could feel his – his – him pressing into her back. She inhaled, scolding herself internally. Thinking about those kinds of things wouldn’t help anything. 

“I’m trying to fix them still. Never worked quite right after the tunnels. I think I might have to, ah, scrap Sneezy and rebuild from scratch.”

“Oh, no!”

Fitz shrugged, but he didn’t fool her. Sneezy had been the first one they designed. 

“Anyway. I wanted to test his chem…” he trailed off, starting to look distressed.

“Chemical receptors?” Jemma asked quickly.

“Yeah,” he said, sending her a small, brief smile. “First. Before I do anything rash. And you’re – you’re better with those, so.”

Jemma felt her heart thump almost painfully. “Come by anytime.”

**

Five days later, something happened that surprised Jemma more than anything: she smiled. Oh, she had of course smiled before then, but at best it was forced despite her underlying depression or anxiety and at worst it was forced so her Hydra co-workers didn’t suspect anything and far, far too often, it was bitter and pained. This smile, though, was simple and genuine and happy. They had fixed Sneezy. Together.

It gave her an inordinate amount of hope. 

It also terrified her. Because now their project was done, and Fitz would no longer stop by the lab for a couple hours each day. He’d go back to the garage, and they’d be back to square one. The only consolation she took was that Fitz was taking an exceptionally long time to pack the DWARFs back into their case, as if he wanted to delay his departure as much as possible. Jemma watched as he worked, desperately trying to think of something to extend their time together even as she admired the careful precision of his motions. He had far more control over his hands than he gave himself credit for. 

He cleared his throat, and Jemma looked up. For some reason, she felt a little blush rising up her neck. She didn’t know why. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. 

“Well…thanks,” he said, picking up the case, and Jemma’s stomach lurched. That couldn’t be it. 

“Fitz, I was thinking…”

He stood, practically motionless, waiting, and Jemma wracked her brain. She was a genius. Surely, she could come up with some way to finish that sentence. But her mouth just gaped open, fish-like. 

“Simmons?” he finally asked. 

Oh, this was ridiculous. It shouldn’t be that hard to ask her best friend to spend some time with her. But he had asked for patience and distance, and she didn’t want to push him. But then again, he was the one that had approached her about the DWARFs so maybe…

“Um…I was thinking…” she tried again.

“About…the, um. Oh, Skye?” he offered.

“Yes!” That worked! Coulson had asked her just the other day if there was anything she could do, after all! 

Fitz exhaled, strangely seeming almost as relieved as she felt. He placed the case back on the table. “Any ideas yet?”

“Well…no. Maybe. We can’t change her back, that much is obvious. Whether her powers were introduced or simply awoken, they’re there for good now. But we can definitely help control or predict them.”

“A monitor, maybe,” Fitz picked up her idea and began to run with it. Jemma felt something flutter in her stomach. It almost seemed like old times. “Something that could warn her if she was starting to – to lose control.”

“Yes. Biosensors. Small, embedded perhaps. They could simply be an alarm or even provide some sort of feedback to stimulate changes in her heartbeat, breathing, whatever. Reset her, if you will.”

“Like a pacemaker.”

“Yes, exactly!”

**

“Please, Skye, try not to move.”

Jemma waited until Skye took a breath and visibly held herself still. Then she reached forward to start taking measurements again. 

“We’re going to start with a band,” she explained. “Once we’re sure the tech works, then we can move onto embedded sensors.”

Skye nodded. “OK. And…why are you taking these measurements again?”

“For…the band?” Jemma was more than a little confused by the question.

“No, I mean don’t you have little gadgets that can do all this for you?”

“Oh, yes,” Jemma answered, feeling flustered. “But, um, Fitz is really better with those and I thought you’d feel more comfortable with me measuring your, ah, body.”

Skye shot Jemma a skeptical, somewhat mischievous look, and she felt even more off-balance. “So were you worried about how I’d feel about him touching me, or how he’d feel about touching me, or how _you’d_ feel about him touching me?”

Jemma shook her head, cursing the blush she could feel high on her cheeks. “No, it’s not – you, of course.”

“OK,” Skye replied, and Jemma felt a sense of relief that she seemed to be dropp – “It’s just I know science is like foreplay for you guys, so.”

“ _Whaaat?_ ” Jemma was pretty sure she’d never heard her voice so high-pitched before.

“It took you _five_ days to fix that DWARF. Five. And I think _I_ needed a cigarette after you finally announced you were finished.”

“Honestly, Skye.” Jemma shook her head, focusing intently on the measuring tape again and trying to sound dismissive, almost patronizing about her friend’s lack of maturity. “We’re just friends. And I’d think you have more important things to worry about than my love life.”

“Interesting.” 

Jemma paused in her movements. That one word answer felt a little too ominous.

“Not ‘personal life,’” Skye continued. “Not ‘friendship issues,’ not ‘relationship with Fitz.’ Your ‘ _love life_.’ I think Freud would have something to say about that.” 

“You know, Skye,” Jemma grasped at straws. “Much of Freud’s work is – ”

“Oh God, spare me,” Skye interrupted. “Just friends, fine.”

“Yes,” Jemma nodded with more determination than she secretly felt. Of all times to be questioning her feelings for Fitz, mere weeks after breaking his heart yet again probably was not the best. 

“Well, I think we should have another _friendly_ movie night soon, don’t you? I mean, that’s something _friends_ do.”

“Certainly,” Jemma replied, trying to match Skye’s level of breeziness and to ignore the flare of anxiety at the thought of spending time with Fitz outside of work. “I’ll let him know you suggested it.”

**

Fitz sat as still as possible, as far over as he could fit on the couch. He wasn’t very comfortable physically, but it was helping him achieve at least some sense of security emotionally. He wasn’t certain why he had agreed to this movie night, considering the last one had been when he thought he and Jem-Simmons were –

But anyway, she had seemed so nervously excited when she mentioned it, and as she said, it was really for Skye’s benefit more than anything and…he could do this. He could. He rubbed his hands down his trousers. They felt entirely too clammy. 

It didn’t help that Skye had commandeered the only chair in the room. She all but pushed Fitz down, directing him to share the _loveseat_ (her exact, mortifying words) with Jem-Simmons. Simmons had looked at him once he was seated, her expression almost as timid as he felt, and held out the bowl of popcorn to him. Fitz had shaken his head rapidly. It was possibly the only time he had ever turned down a snack.

The intro began playing, and Fitz exhaled softly. He sunk back into the cushion, grateful that the movie was starting and he could just…

“Oh crap,” Skye announced. She pulled her phone from her pocket. “It’s May. She wants to see me.”

“I didn’t hear it ring,” Jem-Simmons said, and Fitz was rather surprised by the way she seemed to be almost glaring at Skye.

“It’s on silent.” Skye pointed at the phone, sounding vaguely apologetic but maybe not too disappointed. “Later, guys. Have fun without me.” Then she stood and practically skipped out of the room. Which Fitz thought was odd, because she was the one who wanted to do the movie night in the first place. 

They both stared after her for a long moment. And then Fitz turned to face Jem- _Simmons_. _God_. He could feel his pulse pick up as they made eye contact.

“Um,” Fitz began slowly. “Do…do you still – ”

“Yes!” She cleared her throat. “I mean, sure. If – if you do.”

“OK.”

Her smile was blinding, and Fitz ultimately had to turn away. After a beat, he felt her move and he risked looking at her again. She was holding out the bowl of popcorn to him once more, and this time he took some.

**

The end credits were rolling, and the room was dark, and Fitz was again holding himself unnaturally still. This time, though, it was because Jem-Simm – oh for heaven’s sake – Jemma had fallen asleep, her head lolling onto his shoulder like it had so many times before. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to wake her, but truthfully it was because he wanted to feel her close to him again. Which made him feel a bit of a perv, like he was taking advantage of her, but he couldn’t help himself.

And then she jerked awake, one hand immediately going for her mouth to check for drool. She had been slobbering all over him; Fitz could feel the dampness on his shirt, but he found he didn’t care all that much.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

He turned to look at her, and tried not to react when he noted her face was so close to his own. He breathed in, then offered her a small smile. “It’s OK.”

She nodded, pulling away as she bent down to pick up her shoes. She froze like that then, tense and not looking at him.

“Fitz,” she said, her voice quiet and tight. “I _am_ sorry.” 

He knew without a doubt she wasn’t talking about falling asleep on him. And maybe even a day or two ago, he wouldn’t have been able to have this conversation. But the room was dark, and quiet, and intimate. And he thought he might be finally ready for the closure.

“I am too,” he responded. When she turned to look at him with a confused expression, he added, “I knew. Deep down, I knew. I just wanted…it’s my fault as much as yours. And I’m sorry for punishing you for…before. For leaving.”

She shifted on the couch, curling her legs up underneath her as she leaned closer to him. “Can I…I…Fitz, when I – ”

He shook his head. “No, ah, Simmons, you don’t have to explain.”

“No, I do. I want to. It wasn’t because of what you felt, or because I thought you were useless, or whatever you told yourself the reason was. I was – like I said before, I was just so messed up. Scared, sad, angry. I needed to _do_ something, you know? To make them all pay and to escape my own feelings. And I wasn’t helping you. All I did was make things worse. You would never admit that, but I was. I know I was.”

He sighed and looked away. After a long moment, he shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. We’ll never know if I would have gotten better with or without you.” When he heard a small noise come from her, he turned back to face her again. “But that’s OK. It really is. It’s not – it’s not just about me. You did what you needed to do. I’m not the only one who…was hurt.”

Jemma nodded, blinking back tears. “I never _wanted_ to leave you.”

“I’m just glad you came back,” Fitz whispered. “Safe and sound.”

They stared at each other, and Fitz felt like all the oxygen left the room. He finally forced out a small burst of air that could maybe charitably be called a laugh. “Funny thing is,” he continued. “for best friends, I don’t think we were ever all that good at com…municating. It has nothing to do with…this.” He pointed at his head, then his mouth, then shrugged self-deprecatingly.

She exhaled sharply. Looking down again, she grabbed hold of his hand and held tight. “You’re probably right.”

“How are you feeling now?” Fitz asked, concern and curiosity vying. “Still…broken?”

Jemma opened her mouth, breathing deeply as she looked up to the side. “No,” she said, sounding so certain Fitz believed her. “I think, you know, my complete emotional breakdown actually helped. Catharsis and all that. I’m still…” she glanced at him, almost shyly. “Confused. You know, all these other things…feelings that I’ve been pushing aside are now – well, anyway. I think I’m starting to get back to normal.”

Fitz smiled, choosing to be happy for his friend rather than overanalyzing what other feelings she might mean. He knew better than to get his hopes up again. “Good,” he said sincerely. “I’m glad.”

They stared at each other again, and Fitz was starting to wonder if this was their new thing, getting lost in each others’ eyes. And then Jemma broke away. Fitz didn’t know if it was the dim light playing tricks on him, or if she really was blushing. 

“I should go to bed,” she said.

Fitz straightened quickly, preparing to stand up and see her out, feeling oddly nervous. But before he could move further, she turned back to him, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. His head twitched, ever so slightly turning into her, and he felt as if all the breath was sucked from his lungs. 

“Good night,” she murmured.

She was out of the room before Fitz could move again.

**

As difficult as their conversation had been, Jemma was certainly glad they had it. Because otherwise, she didn’t think they’d be where they were now. When Fitz had entered the lab, she assumed he was just there to talk about the sensors for Skye. Although it was late at night and she had been planning on packing up to finally call it a day, she was more than happy to change her plans when she saw him.

But he had walked up to her, an intense, determined expression on his face, not stopping until he was much too close for scientific or even platonic conversation. She opened her mouth to say…something, but he beat her to it. He leaned down, slotting his mouth over hers in a kiss far more passionate than anything they had shared before. Her knees had gone weak, and she moaned as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Now she was mostly just happy that she had actually decided to wear a skirt that day. Said skirt was hiked up around her waist, her knickers hooked precariously around her ankles, and Fitz’ fingers were digging into the flesh of her hips as he rocked into her from behind, the rough zipper of his open trousers rubbing almost uncomfortably against her arse. She had never realized before that, if she stood on her tiptoes and held the far end of the bench with one hand, it was just the right height for the edge to align with – 

She gasped, her mouth open against the cool surface of the counter, and she couldn’t even bring herself to worry about how well it had been cleaned. Because he had just thrust harder, leaning over her to latch his mouth to the back of her neck. The change in position increased the pressure on her mons, and she reached her other hand down to grip the counter next to her. The edge bit into her fingers almost painfully, but she just used it to pull herself closer, to provide a counterforce as she began to grind against it.

Fitz’ hands moved, one reaching up to intertwine with hers as he too grabbed the far edge, the other reaching down, sliding along her thigh before groping between her legs. A couple of his fingers added to the friction on her clit, and the others teased just behind, hinting at her entrance where he slid in and out. 

“Jemma,” he moaned, and she cried out with pleasure when she heard him say her name again. 

He moved faster, harder, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his climax. The force pushed her up, her toes now just barely grazing the floor. He grunted her name again, then clamped his teeth on the back of her shoulder. She gasped in surprised pain and in arousal, the shock setting off her own orgasm. As she spasmed around his length, he filled her with his release and then collapsed on top of her.

“Jemma,” he whispered, but her breath was coming too fast, too heavy, to allow her to respond.

“Simmons!”

Jemma jumped, the pen in her hands clattering onto the surface of the counter. She blinked quickly and shut her mouth, swallowing to get some moisture back into it. Shaking her head to clear the images from her mind, she forced herself to focus on Bobbi. Who was smirking back at her far too knowingly.

“Sorry,” Jemma choked out, then cleared her throat with a loud _ahem_. “Just…daydreaming.”

“I guess so,” Bobbi said, lifting one eyebrow. “Didn’t you hear me calling your name?”

Jemma shifted in her seat. Bad idea. Bad. Idea. Crossing her legs, combined with the hard surface of the stool, put far too much pressure on her still-sensitive crotch, and she could feel her wet knickers clinging to her as she moved. Jemma breathed out shakily, trying not to moan. And then she ducked her head and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Did you need something?” she finally managed to ask.

Bobbi snorted, and Jemma felt the blush on her face deepen even redder. “Not as badly as you do, girl.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jemma did a little shimmy of celebration before reaching out to grab her beer and take another sip. Skye and Bobbi were cheering on either side of her, and the guys were shaking their heads at them. Jemma honestly couldn’t remember the last time she felt this carefree.

“I am shocked, _shocked_ ,” Hunter observed pointedly, “that you just got the Science and Nature wedge. Unfortunately for you, there’s the whole rest of the pie to go.”

“Bring it,” was her only response. But Skye’s _ye-aah_ and Bobbi’s attempts at threatening gangster poses added a little extra oomph to her trash talk. Jemma giggled into her bottle.

“Just take your next turn already,” Hunter grumbled.

She was still feeling pretty confident as she rolled the die and moved their piece to the next square. Sports and Leisure. Jemma tried not to make a face. Surely they at least had a chance. Bobbi and Skye might know more than she does (they’d almost _have_ to), and it was sexist to say that they’d be at a disadvantage with this category.

She tried to ignore Fitz’ smirk as he bent forward and selected the next card from the box. He was hardly an expert either, so he had no reason to crow. And she also tried to ignore just how long and dexterous his fingers looked as he tapped the card while he read the question to himself. 

She wasn’t feeling warm. No, that was just the buzz from the alcohol.

And then Fitz sighed loudly, reaching forward again to slam the card into the back of the box. “In what city was the original Stanley Cup made in 1892?”

“Oh! Sheffield! Sheffield!” Jemma shouted.

Hunter threw his hands up in the air. “That’s just not right!” 

Needless to say, the boys ended up thoroughly trounced by the end of the game. Jemma wasn’t above rubbing it in either. She even stayed behind, her feet kicked up on the coffee table, just to enjoy watching Fitz pick up the game pieces. Her choice to wait was rewarded when he had to bend over to pick up a few dropped wedges. Jemma tried not to make any noise as she exhaled at the view, and she briefly rested her bottle against the side of her face, hoping the condensation would cool her down a bit. 

Honestly. She was a grown woman, not a teenager in the throes of puberty. She really needed to start controlling herself. Especially considering she had thrown away all her chances with him and didn’t want to risk their delicately reformed friendship on top of it. She took a sip of her beer and then sighed. Well, that thought had certainly brought down her mood. 

And then Fitz was done, sitting down on the couch next to her, flashing her a smile as he leaned back. Jemma suddenly felt happier than she had all night, letting her hand drop along the back of the couch. She was inches away from the curls he had starting to grow back in, and she felt her fingers twitch with the desire to reach out and caress them.

“You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?” he asked.

She only smirked in response. 

They spent another few moments staring at each other, content with silence, their grins turning a little dopey. Just when Jemma felt the urge to lean in, to curl up next to him, maybe place her head on his shoulder and wrap her arm around his waist, Mack walked back into the room. The look he shot them as he grabbed for the phone left behind on the coffee table was part curious and part uneasy. Jemma couldn’t quite hold his gaze. 

At any rate, the moment was gone, and Fitz stood up. “Well, I’m going to bed,” he announced. With a quick nod at Mack and one last glance at Jemma, he left the room. 

Mack remained behind, and finally, she looked at him. He was still watching her, still obviously concerned. Eventually, he sighed, shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he warned.

Jemma waited until he left the room again before draining her bottle of beer. Truthfully, she had no clue what she was doing. She hoped she could figure it out before it really was too late.

**

“And the results clearly show – ”

“Yes, I know. I know! But what I’m saying is that – ”

“Fitz, you’re not listening to me. The dangers of working with – ”

“Would obviously be reduced with the right – ”

“FitzSimmons!” Coulson’s voice interrupted their argument, and they both snapped their mouths shut, tiny blushes coloring their faces. “Can we finish the meeting?”

“Yes, sir, of course.” “Sorry, sir.” They spoke over each other before once again dropping silent. 

Across the table, Hunter was staring at them, his mouth open in amused shock. “What the hell was that?” he asked. 

“ _That_ ,” Skye answered with a grin. “was FitzSimmons.”

Jemma stole a glance at Fitz then. He met her eyes and gave her a wink, and then she ducked her head, feeling like her heart was going to burst with happiness.

**

“Oh my _God_ ,” Bobbi growled as she entered the break room where Skye and Jemma were enjoying some late-night ice cream straight out of the carton. “Give me some of that.”

“How was the mission?” Skye asked, trying to hide her grin as she reached out for another spoon and Jemma handed Bobbi the carton.

“No casualties. Yet,” Bobbi answered darkly, stabbing the spoon into the ice cream.

“You know that Pink song, right?” Skye continued, unable to stop her chuckling. “’But I hate you, I really hate you, so much I think it must be – ’”

“’Truueee love, true love,’” Bobbi started singing along. “’No one else can break my heart like you.’”

The two of them started laughing then, but Jemma just took another bite of ice cream. She pondered for a moment, and then asked, “Do you love him?”

Bobbi sighed. “Loving him isn’t the problem. Living with him is.”

“But…how do you know? What does it feel like?”

Skye looked over at her, with an expression as understanding as it was teasing. “Surely you know.”

“No,” Jemma replied, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. “No, I don’t. I don’t think I’ve ever really...I mean, where’s that line? Between love or – or, you know, lust and _in love_?”

“I’m not sure there always really is a line, not like the movies claim. Or at least the edges can get very blurry. But if there is a distinction, I imagine it’s different for everyone and every couple,” Bobbi answered, and Jemma turned to look at her hopefully. “And only you can decide where one ends and the other begins.”

It wasn’t really the cut-and-dried answer Jemma wished for, and she sighed, her shoulders dropping. 

“Maybe you’ll figure it out if you act on your feelings instead of thinking about them to death,” Bobbi added pointedly.

Jemma looked over at Skye, who nodded in emphatic agreement.

**

Despite the admonition, she stared at her bedroom ceiling the rest of the night, thinking. About their conversation, about what she wanted, about what she felt for Fitz. It was very, very late, or very, very early, when she finally acknowledged that he was indeed, even after everything, her best friend in the whole world.

And more than that.

She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, conducting science and fighting bad guys and, yes, kissing each other senseless. 

And more than that, she repeated, blushing at the prospect even though she was alone and no one could read her mind anyway. 

But had she wavered in uncertainty and denial for too long? Had she rejected him too many times? He had spent the last several weeks getting over her, after all. It seemed he was fairly successful at it too, because despite the occasional _moment_ , he simply treated her like he always had, arguing science and calling her Simmons and making silly jokes and being prone to overreaction when they disagreed or were asked to do something potentially dangerous. He was still in the garage, still sometimes too polite or accommodating with her, as if he were afraid of upsetting the balance they had found, still likely to slip into his stuttering aphasia if things got uncomfortable. 

Jemma shook her head, squeezing both hands into fists. No. She wouldn’t just – she was brave enough to go undercover alone in Hydra. She could find a way to tell her best friend that he was also very probably the love of her life.

**

But how did you go about seducing someone who was intent on getting over you? Because that was her plan, she decided eventually. He already knew she considered him her best friend and the best lab partner in the world. He already knew she loved him and had worked hard with him to open up and make it through their estrangement.

He didn’t know, though, that she wanted his tongue all over her body.

**

Her first plan was eye contact, lots and lots of eye contact. Undressing him with her eyes. Flashing him come hither glances. She even borrowed some of Skye’s extra shiny lip gloss, to accentuate the motion when she bit her lip and shifted forward in her chair while she looked up at him. And every time it seemed like it was working – when the color would drain from his face only for it to flush red again or he’d clear his throat and forget to breathe for a moment – it then went to hell. Someone would walk into the lab or he’d very quickly start talking about their project again or he’d run a hand through his hair and turn away to focus on whatever he was working on.

**

Next she tried to go even more suggestive. She’s not entirely sure how she worked up enough courage to hold her pen just so, to begin to slide it back and forth between her fingers as she talked, to twist it slightly as she moved it faster and faster. But at least she was sure it had the intended effect when he couldn’t take his eyes off her hands, his mouth slightly open and his breath turning ragged.

And then he snapped his mouth shut, looked up at the ceiling, and moments later announced he had to go back to the garage for something. Jemma sighed as the door closed behind him.

**

She thought she’d try touching him. While their personal space had been dwindling back to the nothing it used to be, he still was fairly hesitant about physical contact. So she walked up behind him one morning while he was making tea, and reached her hand up to bury it in his hair.

“I’m glad you’re growing your hair out again,” she informed him, as coquettishly as possible without being outright seductive. “I’ve always loved your curls.”

But he had frozen as soon as she touched him and Jemma awkwardly brought her hand back. Too soon. 

After a long moment, and still not looking at her, he finally spoke. “Tea?”

“Yes, please,” Jemma replied, trying not to feel discouraged.

**

Maybe it’d work better, she figured, if he was the one to take the initiative to touch her. A couple nights later, when they were working alone in the lab still mucking about with the sensors that really could have been finished a week ago, she couldn’t stop remembering the night he kissed her – or her fantasy where he’d done so much more. So, after a moment of indecision, she let out a very calculated, just loud enough exhalation of pain. At the same time, she turned her head to the side with a brief expression of discomfort.

He glanced up at her with a look of concern. “You OK?”

“Oh,” she replied, faux-distractedly. “Yeah, I guess. I just slept funny. My neck’s been giving me trouble all day.”

She reached one hand behind her to rub at her perfectly fine neck, pretending she couldn’t quite reach the spot that was bothering her. He was silent for a long beat.

_Come on_ , she thought. _Come on, Dr. Fitzy._

“Do – do you want me to, um…?” he trailed off, lifting one hand up and twisting it around to finish his question.

“Oh, would you?” she asked brightly, her attitude veering slightly back towards grateful friend so she wouldn’t scare him off again. “That’d be great.”

He hesitated and then stepped over. Jemma tried to hide her smile as she faced forward again. She could feel his breath on the back of her head, feel strands of her hair move as he exhaled. And then, finally, he reached out, resting his fingers on the side of her neck as he pressed his thumb into her trapezius. 

Jemma couldn’t stop the moan; it wasn’t even planned. This seduction attempt might end up backfiring, she belatedly realized, as she remembered just how sensitive her neck could be to touch. His fingers were slightly too cold, but were warming up quickly from her suddenly heated skin, and she was pretty sure the way his index finger lightly grazed up and then back down her neck was unconscious but damn did it ever feel good. 

“Here?” he asked, his voice quiet and gravelly and sparking something low in her gut. 

She nodded, dropping her head lower and licking her dry lips. 

He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded depressingly more clinical. “It’s not that tight. You probably didn’t strain it too badly.”

“Oh,” she searched desperately for an answer. Finally, she went with a simple, “Good.”

He started to pull away then, and Jemma moved quickly, leaning back into him. She felt the firmness of his chest for a brief moment before she panicked and bent forward again. But no matter how clumsy her response had been, it seemed to work. His hand lowered onto her again, squeezing her shoulder briefly, and even his other hand came up to clasp onto the other side. 

After a noticeably tense moment of silence, he began to speak. “Ah, Jem – ” he broke off. She felt something inside her clench in disappointment when he continued with, “Simmons, are – ?”

Her phone went off, the ringtone indicating Skye piercing the otherwise silent lab. He removed his hands hastily, backing away and clearing his throat almost guiltily. Jemma wanted to curse out loud.

**

“She’s killing me,” Fitz complained as he walked into the garage the next morning. “Killing me.”

Mack didn’t respond for a moment. He just stared at the towel in his hands while he cleaned the grease off. “Simmons?” he finally asked.

“Who else?” Fitz said, sitting down on the stool next to the car Mack was repairing. “I’m trying really hard, you know? And I thought I was getting over her. I don’t want to – I mean, she probably doesn’t even realize what she’s doing or, ah, mean anything by it. I’m probably the one who is just turning ev-everything – ”

Mack sighed loudly, interrupting Fitz’ spiral of self-doubt. “What’s she doing?” he asked.

“I think…” Fitz lifted one hand to his throat, scraping along the stubble as he looked at Mack imploringly. “Coming on to me?”

“She probably is,” Mack replied with a shrug, but he didn’t seem particularly cheerful about the idea.

“No.” Fitz shook his head. “No, she – Mack, remember? She doesn’t – ”

“I think she does, Turbo.”

Fitz stared at the engine for a while. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He came here so Mack would help him through his confusion, not add to it. He wanted a reminder that he had made so much progress in getting over Jemma, in forming a real friendship with her again. And now…

“Look,” Mack continued. “I never thought I’d say this, and I’m still not entirely sure I should be encouraging it considering everything, but she really seems to care for you.”

Fitz found it difficult to breathe as he looked at Mack. 

“You still have feelings for her, right?” Mack continued.

Fitz glanced away. “Yeah,” he finally muttered. It wasn’t like it was a real secret, anyway.

“Then go for it. Call her on it.”

“But…”

“You can spend the rest of your life as her friend, always wondering, or you can take a chance and see if there’s more. Either way, I don’t think you’ll lose her again.”

**

Jemma looked at herself in the mirror, second-guessing her choice of outfit. The dress had been at the back of her closet for a reason. While the bottom flared out nice and professionally, the bodice was just a little too tight and a lot too low-cut. She turned to the side, smoothing the fabric over her stomach as she checked the profile.

 _Damn, girl_. The voice inside her head sounded entirely too much like Trip, and she smiled as she remembered her friend for the first time without wanting to cry. 

She nodded once in determination. She’d wear it. The jumper resting on her bed would cover her up sufficiently until it was time to take out the big – well, respectably above average and quite well-proportioned for her frame, thank you very much – guns. And if _this_ didn’t work, she’d be done. She’d accept his implicit refusals and join him in the attempt to get over any thought of being more than best friends.

**

Jemma had been nervous all day, but now, when the time came, she felt almost calm. No more Dr. Nice Girl. It was happening, or it wasn’t, but this ended tonight. She watched Fitz work for a second, smiling at his look of concentration as he inspected the last of the sensors under the magnifying glass.

And then she took a breath, focusing on her fingers as she unbuttoned the cardigan. Grabbing hold of the edges, she slowly removed the fabric, arching her back to push her chest out farther.

“Is it hot in here?” she asked, a little too shaky to be entirely casual.

Fitz glanced up at her, almost immediately dropping his eyes from hers to stare at her revealed cleavage instead. His jaw slacked. And then, rather unexpectedly, he whimpered and propped his elbow on the table as he squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What are – Jemma, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her attempt at innocence ruined by her insecurity at his reaction. She couldn’t even be thrilled with the use of her first name. 

He slammed his hand down on the table, standing and turning away from her. “You know what I mean. I don’t – I don’t – we’re getting to a good place. I’m…getting over you. Why are you – ?”

Jemma stood abruptly, walking over to him with hands outstretched. She couldn’t bring herself to touch him yet, though. Not when he was this upset. “Maybe I don’t want you to get over me.”

He faced her again, his eyes confused and slightly teary. His voice was painful to listen to when he said, “We’ve been through this. You don’t – I know you don’t fff-feel that way.”

Jemma shook her head, finally reaching out to put one hand on his arm. “I never said that, Fitz.” She kept talking over his attempt to interrupt. “I said I didn’t know how I felt. But I do now. Please believe me.”

“What changed?” he croaked. 

“Everything,” Jemma whispered. “Me.”

He stared at her for an unbearably long time, breathing heavily. And then something in his expression shifted. He became...sure. He stopped trembling, and his eyes darkened. 

“You want this? Us?” he asked, and Jemma’s mouth dropped open in surprise at his tone. She suddenly remembered seduction was a game both sides could play. Then she sucked her lower lip between her teeth and nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from his.

Fitz advanced on her, closing the distance between them and using the momentum to crash her into the wall behind her, his left hand moving up to cradle her head just before the impact.

“You sure you want this?” he asked again, almost aggressively, bringing his free hand to her breast and fondling it roughly. 

Jemma didn’t bother with a verbal response. Instead she gripped his head with both hands and pulled him down, immediately opening her mouth into a wet, plundering kiss. Jemma wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, just exploring each other’s mouths as they held each other tight. But then she couldn’t stop a loud moan from escaping, and that seemed to destroy the last of his restraint.

He pulled her hair, delightfully painfully, as he dragged her head to the side and dropped his mouth to her neck. His teeth scraped in light bites, followed by strokes of his tongue, and then warm, wet suction as he latched onto her just above her clavicle. Jemma groaned, twisting her hips, reaching her own hands out for his shirt and hearing buttons pop off, clatter to the ground as she tried to get to his chest. His hand left her breast and dropped lower, even as she found his skin and scratched her nails down, hooking one nipple before continuing farther. 

But she lost her plan of attack when his hand reversed course, sliding back up, this time underneath the skirt of her dress. She gasped, her head thumping against the wall, when he reached the juncture of her legs. The heel of his palm was firm and steady as it pressed against her, a strange contradiction to the light brushes of his fingers along the soaked strip of fabric blocking her entrance. She widened her stance and canted her hips up, hoping to urge him on.

He stopped mouthing her throat, pulling away to look at her with as much wonder as lust. “You _do_ want this,” he breathed out, sounding almost surprised. 

“So much,” she managed to reply.

And then he was kissing her again, but only briefly, breaking away to bury his face in her neck and breathe roughly as he pulled her knickers to one side. The elastic band dug into her hip slightly as it stretched but she hardly noticed, focusing instead on the feel of his finger pushing into her. He moved his wrist, grinding against her clit even as he added a second digit and began fucking her at a driving pace. 

She grasped for some kind of control again, moving her own hands along their journey. Finally she reached his trousers, and she all but tore them open. He groaned, his warm breath hitting her breasts in sharp bursts, as she wrapped her hands around his length, moving in the same unrelenting rhythm his own hand was. 

He tilted his head up, capturing her lips in another messy and uncoordinated kiss, grunting as his tongue glided against hers. She switched to stroking him with one hand, wrapping the other arm around his neck and twisting the back of his shirt into her fist, desperately trying to keep him close. Tiny, aborted squeaks kept being pulled from her throat as she struggled to breathe.

“Jemma,” he sighed into her mouth and then it was too much, her climax overwhelming her. She lost all strength in her legs, his fingers delving deeper as she started to sink towards the floor, and her grip on his erection loosened and tightened uncontrollably. He came then, too, spilling out over her hand and gasping with pleasure. 

They clung to each other for a while, breathing heavily, pulses pounding, legs quivering as they weakly held themselves up. Jemma tried not to moan too loudly when he finally pulled his fingers out of her and brought his hand back up to rest on her hip. Then she smiled, and ultimately laughed breathlessly, letting go of his wrinkled collar to bury her hand in his hair again.

“I’m sorry,” his first words were muffled by the skin of her neck. “I – ”

“Don’t apologize,” she interrupted, barely recognizing her own voice, not remembering the last time she sounded so satisfied. “That was incredible.”

He pulled back to look at her questioningly, to look for some sort of sign. He must have found what he was hoping for, because he grinned. Eyes twinkling, he began again. “I just mean I think I ruined your dress.”

Jemma shrugged, her face hurting from how broad her smile was. “I think I ruined your shirt.”

“Yeah, but who cares?” Fitz countered. “I have a dozen of those. This dress, though…”

He stopped talking, tilting his head down to look at her breasts.

“Yeah, yeah. OK,” she said, rolling her eyes teasingly. 

She placed her palm on his cheek, one finger slipping into his ear as he immediately turned to kiss the ball of her thumb. She tilted his face back up to meet her gaze. “Ask me again, Fitz.” When his brow furrowed in confusion, she clarified. “Ask me how I feel.”

He paused, holding eye contact with her for a heart-stopping moment. “How do you feel about me?” he whispered.

“I’m in love with you,” she replied immediately, with no trace of doubt and no hint of a lie.

**

“OK, one more little pinch.” Skye hissed as Jemma inserted the needle into her side. Fitz winced in sympathy, unable to watch the procedure. “Last one, aaaaand you’re done.”

“No more earthquakes?” Skye asked hopefully.

“That’s the theory,” Jemma replied. 

“Yay!” Skye cheered quietly, lifting her hands in victory punches. She reached out to hug Jemma, then pulled Fitz in too. “Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”

She hopped off the exam table then, pulling down her shirt as she walked to the door. Turning, she faced them again. “Want to do anything tonight?”

“Um,” Jemma hedged. She looked at Fitz, who raised his eyebrows back at her. She faced Skye again. “We had a movie night planned.”

“Oh great!” Skye enthused. “Action or comedy? I’ll bring the chocolate.”

“No, Skye,” Jemma said apologetically. “We – uh, we kind of thought it’d be just the two of us.”

Skye looked at her in surprise, and Jemma offered a small smile. When Skye switched to look at Fitz, he ducked his head in embarrassment. And then Skye beamed. 

“Never mind then!” she said and practically bounded out of the room. 

“Well,” Fitz observed. “no chance it’s going to stay a secret now.”

Jemma shrugged. “Who cares?”

When she looked at Fitz again, he had a massive grin on his face. She stepped closer, lifting her hands up to his shoulders as he wrapped his own arms low around her waist. 

“So…action or comedy?” he asked.

Jemma scrunched her nose. “I don’t think it really matters what we turn on for background noise, do you?”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a part of me that feels Fitz was a bit too confident/dominant there to be totally in character. At the same time, he was all “Look, MechBull. Real talk. A man can only take so much.” So, you know, we’ll let him have this one.


End file.
